


Jailhouse Rock

by Canon_Breaker



Series: Song Inspired [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Homesickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Breaker/pseuds/Canon_Breaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freya and Thor have a captive to keep a hold of. Things ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jailhouse Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and unchecked. All mistakes are my own. Feed back is much appreciated.

Loki looked up at the tall building in front of him, glaring at the large windows and curved door as his eyes travelled skywards over the features of the house. It was on the main road, traffic flying past him and his captors. Thor stood to his right, arms folding across his chest, the plain white tank top he wore, with a pair of dark blue jeans, barely containing his musculature, causing stares from passers – by. However, Loki was unsure as to why the woman, one of their own and one who was essentially kin, was with them. He glanced at Freya who stood, also in Midgardian clothing, to his left. Thor gave a small smirk as her brow furrowed and creased with disgust. It was not anything else, for her lip was lifted in a half snarl, screwing up one of her nostrils. It did nothing to mar her high cheekbones and slender face, and she turned her face to look at Thor behind Loki’s back.   
“Is this place really necessary?” She asked, sighing as she looked up at the building, her nose screwing into a slightly ugly scowl. “Tell me this is not what the Man of Iron meant by Iron Heights.” She rolled her neck, her eyes mimicking the move as she sighed. Her hand filtered through her long, blonde ponytail, teasing through the curl at the end.   
“The Man of Iron would not jest when it comes to our brother.”  
“Your brother, Thor.” Freya shot him a dirty look and shoved past Loki, whose glamour was still in place, shielding his Asgardian clothing from the few people that had graced the street on the cloud darkened day. “Not mine.”  
“I can still hear you.”  
“Loki.” Thor shook his head with a slight smile, patting his brother on his shoulder. “It is not for long, and I would rather you be kept from the wrath of Father.”  
Freya coughed loudly, looking at them from the top step. She leant against the door, looking the picture of godliness as her figure lay distorted at her feet on the steps in front of her.  
“How are we getting in?” She asked, lifting an eyebrow as she unfolded her arms.  
“The Man of Iron said that he would sort out the, uh, nitty gritty.”  
“That sounds… Uncomfortable.” She shuddered, turning back to the door and trying the handle. The knob turned in her grasp, and the door swung open, revealing a dark hallway covered with shadows. Her eyes darted over the room in front of her and she twisted, looking back at Thor and Loki, the brothers so alike and yet so different. “Were you going to admire the architecture all day or come and explore our new abode?”   
“Our new prison.”  
“Correction.” She said, shaking her head as she walked into the house. “Your prison, my new play pen.”   
“Are they not one and the same?” Loki’s voice carried up and along the corridor. There was a brief pause and the trudge of footsteps as the trickster reluctantly set foot in the house, corralled by Thor who slowly shut the door behind them. The blonde god looked at the door and frowned, inspecting the frame closely.   
“Freya?”   
She moved laboriously, causing Loki to scowl and huff impatiently, his hands still cuffed together despite the removal of his source of corrupting power.   
“Whatever is the matter, Thor?” She looked up as his brow furrowed into a heavy frown, and reached, gently resting her hand on his shoulder. “There is no need to be so troubled. It is only a door.” She reached out, touching the seamless metal with her fingertips. As she touched it, the door melted back into existence.  
“How did you do that?” Thor stared down at her, eyebrows lifted.  
“We can open the door, if we will it. He…” She waved over her shoulder at Loki, who growled curses under his breath. “He cannot. Now, will you let me explore or do you have any other questions?”  
“None at all.” Thor smiled warmly at her, cheeks lifting the corners of his mouth, crinkling his eyes. It was like sunshine pouring through clouds, a brief respite of warmth on an otherwise grey and clouded day. She patted his shoulder gently, and walked away from him into the open plan downstairs. She could see the stairs which curved in a sharp twisting spiral onto the upper floor, and the other a flat but softer angled set which was pressed against the wall, a cupboard beneath them. She wandered what lay beneath it but that would be for later discovery.   
“Would it trouble either of you to remove these now?”  
Thor turned to see Loki hold up his hands, the manacles still chained around his wrists. He shook his head.  
“Unfortunately, brother, I cannot.” He looked over at Freya who was inspecting the cupboards, opening and closing each one as she worked her way around the kitchen.  
“Don’t look at me.” She paused, shutting the panelled door and standing up, folding her arms across her chest. “You should have thought of the consequences before you went through with your cockamamie plan.”  
“Cockamamie?” Loki gave a sharp laugh, shaking his wrists again. “If I had foreseen this, Freya, I would not have attempted it.”  
“Yes, you would have attempted it, Loki. Because your lust for power and a crown has always ruled you. You are a prisoner to your own mind. This house will be nothing new to you because you have always been bound to your own wants and desires. You will no longer get those.” She narrowed her eyes at him and stalked up the curving staircase. She paused halfway. “No longer will you harm these people. I will make sure of that. Cross me and you will have your existence ended painfully.”  
She continued up the stairs, knowing full well that both Thor and Loki were watching her move out of their eye line. 

Once she had made it to the second floor, she looked at the sleek white walls and silver doors which lined the brief landing between floors. It was not modest, the wealth which the Man... Freya paused in her thoughts, shaking her head from the Asgardian term that Thor had coined. There were four doors on this floor with a startling black leather sofa against the bleached wall, the colour drawing her eyes to it. She knew there was provision for all three of them to sleep in a normal bed but the sofa had an air of comfort. She approached it slowly, hand stretching out. It was soft and not like leather at all, the fabric was delicate and like the blankets of home, it moved beneath her skin. She bit her lip, inhaling deeply as she sat, knees curled to her chest. Freya blinked, suddenly drained as she sank back into the cushions. 

Heated, Freya could feel the gaze burning into her back. She stretched out, elongating her body from the foetal shape that she had adopted during her slumber on the long black sofa. Twisting, she found herself encased in a thick red blanket that smelt like home, of Asgard. She pushed the thick, warm fabric from her body, sitting up to run her fingers through her hair, detangling it with close precision. Her legs folded out along the length of the sofa and she smiled, freezing at the sneering chuckle that issued from behind her. Loki was stood, watching her with crossed arms.  
He was wearing Midgardian clothes which looked more alien to Freya than own herself in the alien getup. She held back a chuckle, lifting sympathetic eyebrows as she smirked softly.  
“Oh, you have out done yourself.” She released the laughter, watching his face curl into a snarl.   
“As much as I always deign your opinion so important Freya, I did not ask it of you.” He snapped, eyebrows furrowed in a glare as he unfolded his arms. Shrugging with feigned ignorance, Freya stood up, moving to the door which was partially open.  
“I wouldn’t go in there if I was you.” Her hand hovered over the handle as Loki smirked, his eyes meeting hers, locking onto her gaze. “Thor has claimed it for himself. You will be up there, unless you prefer to sleep on the sofa?” He lifted an eyebrow, smirk appearing across his lips as he took a step forward. Her nostrils flared and she growled a warning.  
“Can I not move without you reacting, Freya? I would not have taken you for a street cat, although-”  
His retort was lost to the sound of her savage yell. Freya had launched herself across the room, slamming him against the wall. Leaping the back of the sofa, her hands propelled him backwards, shoving him against the reinforced wall, fingers curling tightly in his shirt. For a moment, the only sound was that of her voice as she kept it low, a vicious snarl against her lips.   
“This is your fault, Trickster. It is not mine and yet you treat me with contempt. I have no wish to be here, I did not even wish to join Thor but your mother felt I should be compelled to join him. You broke hearts, Loki. And now where do we find ourselves? Locked up here. In this prison of isolation. There is nothing warm here. It is a jailhouse with the jailers on the wrong side of the bars.”  
Her hand slid around his neck, gripping his throat hard as she squeezed. Loki coughed, struggling. He put up no fight as he knew her words held truth.   
“You are the cause of all of this.”  
“FREYA!” Thor roared, his door thudding against the wall. It left no dent, the wall reverberating with a hollow tone. “That is enough.” He stood behind her, fingers curling around hers, peeling them from Loki’s skin. He gave his brother an ice cold glare, folding Freya into a hug, his arms shielding her from the other. Breathing out with flared nostrils, Loki looked at them, lip curling into a sickened snarl.  
“Oh, yes. Protect the damsel in distress because it wasn’t as if she intended to kill me.”  
“Loki.” Thor turned so he could see his brother, snapping the words between a clenched jaw. He could feel his shirt become wet with tears as they leaked from the corners of Freya’s eyes, the drops of water warm on his skin. “I will not have this here.” He said, tone firm as he gestured for Loki to make his escape. The slender man slithered into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Thor lifted Freya with ease, the movement familiar from their youth as she curled against his chest, limbs folding to make her fill the smallest space possible. Considering her stature, she managed it quite well.  
“Hush now.” He sat on the sofa, lying against the back of it. “Hush, little one.” Thor’s hands, though large, were gentle as he cradled her chin, tilting it so he could wipe her face and remove the tear tracks that had stained her cheeks. Freya swallowed, covering her face as she pulled her knees up.   
“…I want to go home.”  
“Home is a long way from here.” Thor murmured, shifting so she was huddled closer to him. “You did not have to come with me, you had every right to stay.”  
“I am obligated to your mother.”  
“You are independent, fiercely so, Freya. You had no need to come, even if it is because of Loki.” Thor looked down at her, eyes crinkling as he tried to curve her mouth with a smile of his own.  
“Your…”  
“Our mother made no such request. You came because you wished to, if not for him, then for sating your curiosity.” Thor said, hand slowly rubbing her back to soothe her. She laid her head on his broad shoulder, closing her eyes. “We will only be in this home for a few days at most, little one.”  
“This is no home, Thor. It is only a prison.”  
“It is what you make of it, Freya. Nothing else.”   
He let her move from his arms, letting her go. Thor rubbed his forehead and watched the door which closed behind her with a sigh. It would be a long haul for all of them, and neither of his companions had much hope for the future.


End file.
